It took Lynn's eyes a few minutes to adjust to the dim light that a small table lamp in the garage provided. The first thing they registered were the rigid outlines of an old iron barred bed, then came the wheel chair and finally the wasted hands secured mercilessly to the bars of the headboard.

Lynn gasped in cold terror. She lingered in the doorway for a moment, taking in the awful sight in front of her. She didn't quite know what she'd expected to find, but she hadn't prepared herself for this. Her stomach churned at the sight of Blanche Hudson tied to the old bed, her eyes sunken deep into the dark sockets around them, staring at the figure standing in the harsh flood of daylight. Grotesque, smudged colours brought out the accented, once lovely features of her pale sickly face.

Slowly emerging from the overwhelming shock, Lynn uttered a trembling, "Miss Blanche?" Although she could have never mistaken anyone for her, there was an incredulous feeling of doubt in her that it was possible for such beauty as Miss Hudson's to fade into something as appalling as the sight at hand.

The head on the pillow moved faintly in a powerless attempt to summon help. Lynn felt a stinging in her eyes, seeing the poor woman completely out of strength. She leaned forward sharply, willing the last of her hesitations to leave her, and then stepped into the garage.

"Miss Blanche!" she cried, her voice shrill with relief.

She stopped at the bed and threw herself over the still and quiet figure, wrapping her arms tightly around her torso. "You have no idea how worried I've been," she whispered against the former actress's ear. It was so good to hold her again! Lynn hadn't quite realized—not until Blanche had disappeared—how close they had become. She didn't think she'd ever had a friend who'd meant so much to her.

Lynn thought she could feel a drastic weight loss in the naturally petite woman. As she pressed the frail body against herself, she felt Blanche's alarmingly slow pulse under her fingers. Her brow furrowed in concern, but before she could decide on her next move, she felt a soft movement—a slight breath of air—at her ear.

She pulled away instantly and studied the older woman's face. The bluish dry lips were moving.

"What?" Lynn asked gently, searching Blanche's face for any sign of what she wanted to tell her. "I can't hear you."

The lips moved again, forming a silent word. Lynn held her breath to catch it. "Water… Water… Please…" Blanche's sunken eyes flicked with glittering desperation towards the bedside table and back to Lynn's face.

The girl came alive suddenly and reached with reborn urgency for the glass on the table. She was in such a hurry to help her friend that she spilled half the water on the twisted bedclothes on her way. Ignoring the still tied arms that prevented the older woman from moving, Lynn put a hand to the back of Blanche's head and lifted it so that she could carefully pour some water over her lips.

For a minute not a sound was made in the garage. Blanche drank hungrily and Lynn watched with delighted contentment as the glass gradually emptied. She could already see an enormous change in Blanche's complexion. Her eyes regained their natural glint. Eventually Blanche turned her head a little bit to the side and Lynn removed the glass from her lips. She proceeded to untie the actress's hands from the headboard as Blanche watched her with a tearful look of gratefulness in her big blue eyes.

"Lynn," she breathed happily, and her numbed claw-like hands fell limply onto the pillow. She looked as if she wanted to say more, to express her gratitude, but was unable to think of a way to.

Lynn could only guess how awful it had been for Blanche these last few days. A dark bruise across her left cheekbone gave mute testimony of the abuse Dan had inflicted on her. The young woman was convinced that Miss Blanche had been forced onto a rather extreme diet, too. Lynn's eyes travelled from the actress's face to the table and her face hardened. She quickly studied her friend, who was attempting with a small pleased smile to move her fingers, again.

Lynn sat down on the bed, a shaky hand reached out in front of her, not quite touching Blanche. "Did he hurt you?" she enquired quietly, an apprehensive tremble in her voice.

Blanche gazed up at her with a look of restrained misery, her delight of being liberated overshadowed by the painful memories of the last six days. She bit her lip distractedly, and Lynn noticed tears welling up in her eyes. Blanche nodded lightly, blinking rapidly. "Yes," she breathed with arduous difficulty. "But not the way you think," she added. The fact that she'd been tied up in a bed instead of her chair, or any other piece of furniture for that matter, couldn't have slipped the young girl's notice.

Lynn sighed in limited relief, dropping her hand on Blanche's stomach. "So he didn't…" Lynn's eyes followed her hand.

"No," Blanche replied reassuringly. Her now-moving but ice cold right hand joined Lynn's. Her eyes sought Lynn's with a desperate plea. "Take me away from here," she begged feebly.

Lynn gave her hand a soothing squeeze. In turn, Blanche gripped hers so tightly that it sent a strike of pain through it. Lynn searched the older woman's suddenly terrified eyes for an explanation. Blanche's face had turned white with alarm, and instead of looking at her, her eyes were fixed upon something behind Lynn. The girl felt a chill against the back of her head. She had a dreadful hunch about what Blanche was looking at.

Slowly and hesitantly Lynn turned around, and came face to face with her brother, standing at the door. Dan's face held a blank expression of surprise. His hand gripped a small bouquet of red roses. Lynn held her breath in the ominous silence. She could feel Blanche's hand starting to tremble, and the actress pulled it away. Lynn could picture the look of stunned terror on Blanche's face as the two of them stared at the figure in the doorway. She'd seen that look before. It was when she'd awoken Miss Blanche from her nightmare back on Hillside Terrace. Lying in bed later that night, Lynn had promised herself never to let the actress have a reason to feel so scared ever again.

In addition to the uneasiness creeping into her heart, a fierce loathing had started to build up inside her. No matter how hard she looked, Lynn couldn't detect even a hint of remorse or guilt in Dan's expression. If anything, he was happy. And this infuriated Lynn ever further.

A quick glance at the table told her that the scissors, possibly there for cutting Blanche's still, thankfully, untouched, if eminently mussed, hair, were in her reach, and another one at the man in the doorway that she'd have enough time to grab them before he could make his way over to the bed. She heard a shuddering intake of breath from behind her and decided to take the chance.

Blanche watched Lynn's hand reach for the scissors swiftly and a sickening feeling of dread filled her. She tried to tug at the girl's arm but was too late—Lynn had already moved.

"Lynn!" Blanche managed in her still weak voice, seeing the girl lunge towards her brother. "Stop!"

Memories of the time she herself had been in the same situation invaded her mind ruthlessly. Blanche hadn't meant to hit Jane that time. She had just surprised her. Despite how much Blanche had regretted her act of impulsive self-defence, she couldn't bring herself to believe that Jane's actions afterwards had been in any way justified. She'd figured Jane had long been searching for and at that moment found evidence of her sister's alleged hatred for her. And even though, unlike in her case, Lynn did, indeed, feel no affection for her sibling, Blanche didn't want things to go for Lynn the way they'd gone for her.

"Stop it!"

Lynn's hand froze above Danny's head, the young man's grip firm around her wrist. Now his face was contorted in an ugly expression of irritation. A raging fire that Blanche had learned to fear was burning in his eyes. She tried to make Lynn understand the danger by staring intently at the back of the girl's head.

For a couple of seconds nothing happened. The siblings stared at each other without blinking—a silent battle over the disabled woman on the bed. Blanche held her breath. She was expecting the worst; and Blanche had a harrowing feeling that if the scissors really did end up being turned against their holder, there would be nothing she could do to help her. Familiar images of Edna came flooding through her head—of the sharp silhouette in the blinding glare of the gallery crashing its hand down on the other one's head, the second figure falling forward, a loud thump, the first figure slamming the door shut.

Blanche had closed her eyes to prevent herself from picturing the same happening again but opened them with a start when she heard the Whites finally move. She caught a glimpse of Danny shoving his rose bouquet into his sister's face, and by doing so, pushing her away from himself. Blanche gasped in fright when she saw Lynn fall to the floor, and then immediately released that breath in a relieved sigh. The scissors clattered when they hit the floor.

As soon as she found herself on the floor, Lynn started getting back up. She jumped to her feet in a matter of seconds but by that time her brother had already fled the garage. Lynn took a few hasty steps towards the door, then seemed to reconsider, and turned back.

When she reached Blanche's bedside again, Lynn was rubbing her cheek where the roses' thorns had cut into her skin. She looked rather remorseful when she perched herself on the edge of the bed and took Blanche's hand in hers again. "I'm sorry if I scared you," the young woman said quietly, remaining fiery sparks still dancing in her eyes.

A distant siren reached Blanche's ears. She closed her eyes in blissful relief and a tear of gratitude escaped the corner of her eye.